


Mistaken Identities

by Ken M (HowNovel)



Category: Starman (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1991-10-26
Updated: 1991-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 08:51:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowNovel/pseuds/Ken%20M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There have been a few sightings of the alien or his look alike over the years. Wylie is sent to a Beverly Hills theater to investigate an apparent sighting of the alien. Would someone who needs to stay low profile really star in a play? Wylie runs into an actor that could be his own clone and leaves the venue in a daze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistaken Identities

MISTAKEN IDENTITIES  
By Ken M  
October 1991

As certain as death and taxes and as relentless as the passing of time, George Fox continues his search for the gentle alien most of us simply refer to as "Starman." It has been a long time since he last made contact with his elusive adversary and the trail has become stone cold. Government funds were already being reduced to the point that travel was limited. Now, he was strapped with the ultimate restriction, produce physical evidence that "It" existed by the end of the government's fiscal year or all funds would be withdrawn and the project terminated.

He and Wylie were in the outskirts of Chicago, checking out a tip that Liz Banes had rented a small apartment in the Mount Prospect area for a "friend" when the notice of the time limit was received. Frantically, he paced about in the hotel room, trying to decide how he could best utilize the dwindling dollars and waning days to snare his prey. In the end the options, while limited, were quite clear. Desperate circumstances require desperate measures. He and Wylie had to split up in hopes of following up on their last remaining leads. George chose the East Coast because the strongest leads pointed in that direction.

Wylie was assigned to investigate three other possible sightings. One sighting was reported from Star Island, Utah, just outside of Bountiful. Another report that appeared in a Spokane, Washington newspaper recounted a story of a lady from Parker, Washington who told of an encounter with a photojournalist with "special powers" who had come to the area to photograph the recovery progress of Mount St. Helens' eruption. The third tip had come from the Beverly Hills area. Having seen George Fox and a picture he was showing to the producers of "America's Most Wanted," a concerned citizen reported to the local police that the picture he saw on TV looked an awful lot like the guy on the billboard outside the Canon Theater. It seems that the "look alike" would soon be appearing in a play called "Love Letters."

"Impossible!," George rationalized. No fugitive would willingly seek employment in a field where his face would be plastered all over billboards and magazines, to say nothing of movie and TV screens. "This assignment will be good for Wylie," Fox smiled to himself. "Even if he turns up nothing, at least he will be out of my hair."

Apparently the Utah and Washington leads came to naught, but it was the Beverly Hills tip that brought me face to face with Wylie and gave me some firsthand experience in observing the affable, if somewhat incompetent, FSA agent in action.

Our hotel was less than a block from the Canon Theater, as were numerous fabulous eating places. We chose The Kaktus restaurant for dinner for two reasons, its authentic Mexican food and its proximity to the theater where we had reservations to see "Love Letters" that evening.

Even though it was almost an hour before show time, we decided to pick up our tickets and wait inside the lobby in one of the easy chairs that beckoned so alluringly to our feet, tired beyond belief from pounding the pavement all day, absorbing the sights and sounds of Beverly Hills.

Because we were so early, the ticket line was very short. A few other people must have had the same idea we to go inside and wait, because there were several bodies milling about the lobby. The man in line just ahead of us apparently was not there to buy a ticket but to get some information or see someone. I heard the ticket lady say, "But he's not here right now." To which the man replied, "I have to see him. It's official business. If he isn't here, then I need to talk with the Manager or whoever is in charge."

The ticket lady turned toward the lobby and tapped on the glass to get the Manager's attention. Having done so, she motioned for him to approach the booth. She whispered something to him and he glanced at the man who was waiting in front of us. After sizing up the situation briefly, the Manager walked over to the double entrance doors, opened one of them, and asked the man to step inside.

Once our tickets were purchased, we entered the lobby and took one of the few remaining available seats. The Manager and the man who had been in line ahead of us were standing only a few feet from where we were sitting. At first I tried not to listen to what they were saying, but that was almost impossible. Both men were speaking in normal tones and seemed unconcerned that their conversation might be overheard.

The Manager was shaking his head, "Mr. Wylie, what you are inferring is preposterous. I have only been in this business for a short time, but I've known Bob Hays from day one. He is one of the most respected actors in Hollywood. There are people here right now that have known him for twenty years and can vouch for him. I understand that his parents are also planning to be here tonight. They should be able to clear this up if no one else can."

"You say there are people here right now that know this person well and have known him for twenty years?"

"Yes."

"Who are they? Can they be trusted?"

"One of the people is Mr. Richard Mentzer who is the mainstay of the SPVA. Another is a very talented actress, Tracey Williams, who is married to Patrick Culliton, a long time friend of Bob Hays. Both of them can be trusted, but you will have to make that determination yourself. Wait here, I'll, bring, them right back."

He didn't have to wait long, the Manager returned promptly with a man and woman in tow. The man was sixtyish with a sweet cherub like face. The woman was young, very beautiful and very pregnant.

She gasped as she approached the waiting man, "You look very much like my husband." Motioning her head in the Manager's direction, she added, "Greg said you did, but I didn't believe him. What is it that you want?"

Pointing toward the lobby's billboard, "I want to talk to you about that man there."

"What do you want to know?" the older gentleman asked.

"What can you tell me about him?"

"Like what?" the two asked in unison.

"How long have you known him?"

The older man thought for a moment. "Nearly fifteen years, I'd guess."

"I haven't known him very long, but my husband has known him since he first came to Hollywood, nearly twenty years ago."

"Where is your husband tonight? Will he be here later?"

"He is performing at the Magic Castle tonight, but he will be by later to pick me up. If you want to talk to him, that can be arranged."

"That may not be necessary if the two of you can convince me that this Hays guy isn't who I think he is." Reaching inside his coat pocket, he pulled out a photograph and held it up. Even from a distance, I could see there was a strong resemblance to Robert Hays. "As you can see, that is going to take some doing. No two people could look that much alike unless they are identical twins."

"I'm not so sure, Mr. Wylie," the lady responded. "Look at this picture of my husband and tell me it's not like looking into a mirror." She handed him the picture she had removed from her wallet.

Wylie seemed a little flustered. He examined the photograph closely, then walked over to a mirror and held it up beside his face. There was no denying the likeness.

Dick Mentzer spoke up, "I'm not sure that either of us can give you any concrete evidence to disprove your theory, Mr. Wylie, but I'd wager that his Mom and Dad can, and they should be arriving any minute. Let's go outside and wait for them."

The eavesdropping was just getting good. Now they were going to go outside and out of ear shot. My wife and I looked at each other, I gave an assenting nod, and we followed the entourage outside, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, of course, but we were obviously unsuccessful. The lady noticed that we were following them. A ploy, I needed a ploy, fast.

"Aren't you Tracey Williams who starred in "Kiss Me Kate?" I asked in desperation.

"Yes, I'm Tracey Williams."

The men watched in silent amusement at yet another couple, fawning over a celebrity.

"Friends of ours from Dayton, Ohio saw you in "Kiss Me Kate" and they told us how great you were. They also told us you married your leading man, Patrick Culliton. Is that him, there? Could we take a picture of all of you to show folks back home in Dallas?"

Tabloid headlines flashed through Dick Mentzer's mind. There was no telling what the Hollywood gossip columnists would report; they would have a field day, "Expectant Star Escorted To Play, But Not By Mate" and speculation would go downhill from there. Before Tracey could compose herself, Dick Mentzer spoke up, "Sure, Tracey and Patrick will be glad to pose for you folks." Clearly, Dick was thoroughly enjoying the charade.

"You don't get out of it that easily, Dick, let them take a picture of all three of us," a sly smile played about her lips. "Hurry up," she added. "It is getting chilly out here."

Instantly, Wylie shed his coat and slipped it around Tracey's shoulders. "This will help keep you warm."

"Thanks," Tracey responded. "It feels good, but I'm afraid it isn't going to do much for the photograph."

After taking the picture we didn't want to go back inside, but there didn't seem to be graceful way out of it. Luckily, the Hays' arrived before etiquette forced our departure. The Hays' had brought along a friend, a lovely lady from their home town. They were all chatting happily while Wylie stood off to one side, observing at a distance. My wife and I stood our ground, hoping to get to meet the parents of the star we came to see that night. Whether it was our persistence or their graciousness, we did get to meet the folks. They were surprised that we had come all the way from Dallas to see the play. When we told them that Robert Hays was our favorite actor and that we were excited about getting to see him live, they suggested that we might wait around after the play and go with them to the star's dressing room. One offer such as that was all that we needed. We accepted their kind invitation and left them to respond to Wylie's third degree.

It was time for the play to start before the questioning session broke up and everyone reentered the theater, including Wylie who was delayed at the ticket window and entered last. I made a mental note of where everyone was seated. The Hays' had aisle seats, near the front. Their guest sat directly behind them. Wylie sat on the left, about mid way of the theater, but was clearly visible because of his height.

The play was so absorbing, I was soon lost in its magical web, and forgot all about the little drama we had witnessed before show time. At intermission my wife and I elected to stretch our legs by returning to the lobby in search of the restroom facilities. Once again I relived the reality that it takes women ten times longer to "refresh" themselves than it does men. The extended wait was not a total waste though. Wylie was talking to someone on the lobby telephone. I was seated close enough to hear his conversation clearly. "The resemblance is strong, but I am convinced it is just a coincidence. Everybody out here looks like somebody else, even me. One lady told me that I looked just like her husband and showed me a picture to prove it."

Whoever was on the other end of the telephone conversation was not too happy. Wylie was fidgeting, obviously ill at ease and not at all pleased with the scolding he seemed to be getting. "No, Mr. Fox, I have not been drinking nor sniffing anything hallucinogenic." Wylie was firm and squared his shoulders in indignation. "I have interrogated a lot of people, including his mother and daddy, and this guy seems clean. Trust me." In a desperate attempt to appease the antagonist on the other end of the line, he reluctantly agreed, "All right, Mr. Fox, I'll go back stage and talk to him after the last act, just to be certain."

As the curtain came down after the final emotional scene, the audience filed out silently, almost reverently, with the exception of those of us who had aspirations of going back stage to meet the star. My wife and I made our way to where the Hays' and their guest were waiting beside the stage door. Wylie flashed his badge at the guard and descended the stairs that led to the dressing rooms. The guard told us we could go back just as soon as the cast had changed clothes. In the meantime we were joined by a handsome guy in jeans and a green pullover sweater, carrying a beautiful stained glass portrait. I almost did a double take. I had seen Wylie, attired in slacks and sports coat, disappear down the stairwell. Seconds later, here he was, dressed altogether differently, standing beside Tracey and showing her his stained glass treasure. Instantly, I knew that the man was not Wylie, but Patrick Culliton. The portrait he proudly held was of himself and Tracey in a scene from "Kiss Me Kate." The art work was beautiful and the likenesses were uncanny. All of us stood about, oohing and aahing at the picture, a Stan Livingston masterpiece.

The guard announced that the stars had completed their change and we could now go back stage. Quite naturally, the Hays went directly to their son. Robert bent down to hug his diminutive Mom and planted a tender, gentle kiss on her cheek. The scene was so captivating that I couldn't resist the temptation to watch the warm exchange. The gesture was so slight and the movement so smooth, it would have gone unnoticed if I had not been observing the mother and son embrace so closely. Mom whispered something into Bob's ear and simultaneously slipped something into the palm of his hand. It was done so quickly, I wasn't positive that I had seen what I had seen. He motioned with his head, answering his mother's inquiry, "He's in my dressing room now." He turned to the rest of us and asked to be excused for a moment. "This will not take long. I promise I'll be back in five minutes."

Susan Ruttan, the beautiful costar, chatted with all of us and graciously consented to our picture taking. The lighting back stage was rather dim, but suddenly everything appeared much brighter and had taken on a rather mysterious bluish glow. The door to Robert Hays' dressing room opened and Wylie emerged, bathed in a blue shimmering light, and walked past all of us, hesitating only momentarily to look at Patrick Culliton, who could easily have been his clone. He waited by the exit door, seemingly lost in thought. Bob Hays came out seconds later. This time he was wearing a black leather jacket and clutching something in his right hand. The object resembled a silver ball which I immediately concluded was his "good luck charm." I had heard that most actors had something they considered "lucky." This, I supposed was his. He opened his fist and, sure enough, there was a silver ball in the palm of his hand. He handed the ball to his mother, but not before several cameras flashed, capturing the moment forever on film.

Robert Hays went over to Wylie and opened the exit door for him. He shook Wylie's hand and patted him gently on the shoulder, "I'm sorry about the mix up," Robert said as he ushered Wylie out the door and into the night.

It was delightful to get to meet all those celebrities, especially my favorite actor and getting to visit with him briefly. I wonder from time to time whether everything I saw and heard was real or if it had been a dream. If it were not for the photographs we took, I would be inclined to think it was all just a figment of my imagination.

The one thing that bothers me most is how Robert was able to convince Wylie that he was not the person he sought, no one else had been able to shake his confidence, even with true life stories and baby pictures. I wondered about the blue haze that permeated the whole back stage. I wondered about the fixed expression on Wylie's face when he exited the dressing room, and even more about the shimmering blue light. Some of the time I chalk it up to being inside a theater with all of its lights and illusions, but most of the time I feel I witnessed something as intense and gripping as the drama I saw on stage. I can't be sure, and I still wonder about it. I guess I always will.

THE END


End file.
